


something for the radio

by lakehymn



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lakehymn/pseuds/lakehymn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PK holds out a hand. Carey stares at it for a long moment.</p><p>“Come on,” PK says. “You know I know you saw me in the parking lot the other day. I’m an awesome dancer, right?”</p><p>Carey looks up, meeting PK’s eyes, and PK shoots him a grin.</p><p>“Okay,” Carey says. “Let’s do this.”</p><p>(a <i>Step Up</i> au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	something for the radio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elareine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elareine/gifts).



> I decided to fudge the narrative a bit to make it fit better for PK and Carey's personalities. I also ended up cutting out the movie's more serious subplots, so I don't think there's anything I need to warn for.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you like it, too!

Cary is bent over, legs straight and holding his palms flat against the wood floor, when the instructor steps up to the front of the practice room, clapping her hands twice in quick succession to get everyone’s attention. Carey feels the stretch of his leg muscles as he holds the position for a beat longer, and then he straightens up to watch the instructor demonstrate the proper technique for a hitch kick.

Afterwards, he joins the group of other advanced jazz students who have congregated to one corner of the room, leaving the dance floor spacious enough for them to take turns practicing.

They’ve all gone through this procedure a thousand times, and they’ll do it a thousand more before they graduate at the end of the year.

Next up is barrel turns. The instructor reviews the move with them for a few minutes before finally letting them practice individually, though not without observing and critiquing them.

Carey does two full turns, using a scuff mark on the wall as his spot point and gracefully sticking each landing, and he’s just about to move into his third turn when some guy steps directly in front of his line of sight. Distracted, Carey lands a little less steadily on the last turn, and he needs an extra step to regain his sense of balance.

The guy grabs Carey’s arm as if to help, but Carey’s fine on his own, thanks. He shoots a glare in the dude’s direction, hoping to convey that sentiment without having to actually say it, but the guy just grins in response.

“Looks good, man!” he says.

He sounds sincere, not like he’s making fun of Carey at all—which is good because if he hadn’t been there to distract Carey, there wouldn’t be anything to make fun of in the first place. But still, his sincerity in addition to his unflagging smile causes Carey’s annoyance to disappear almost instantly.

“Thanks,” he says. Then: “Who are you, exactly?”

“PK,” replies, well, PK.

“Alright, PK. Why are you here?” Carey cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Sorry, I just mean, I haven’t seen you in this class before. Are you a transfer student?”

PK laughs.

“Nah, I’m not a student,” he says. “You’re looking at the newest custodian for Montreal School of the Arts.”

“Oh!” Carey exclaims, comprehension dawning. “You’re the guy who’s doing community service for breaking in over the weekend and trashing our set?”

For the first time during the course of the conversation, PK actually looks abashed.

“Yeah, I guess that’d be me,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The director was super pissed about that, you know,” Carey tells him.

“I actually figured that out on my own,” PK shoots back. “When he yelled at me for, like, half an hour.”

Carey shrugs, purposefully nonchalant, and says, “Just wanted to let you know,” before he cracks and starts laughing. “Therrien is always pissed about something,” he continues. “It’s not a big deal.” He pauses. “Well, it is, since that set was pretty expensive. But it’s not like it’s anything the school can’t handle, no matter how often Therrien threatens to start taking away students’ scholarships.”

“Good to know,” PK says.

“Alright, class,” the instructor calls, an obvious precursor to end-of-class announcements, and Carey starts a little at the unexpected interruption.

He glances to the front of the room, and then turns back to PK when PK says, “So, I’ll see you around…?”

He trails off, and it takes Carey a second to figure out what he’s waiting for.

“Carey,” he supplies.

“Carey,” PK repeats. “Awesome. I’ll see you around, Carey.”

And then the instructor is talking about the final showcase and how, this late in the year, all graduating students should have a good idea of what they’re going to perform for it. Carey focuses his attention back on the class.

*

Carey sees PK again at the end of the day, after all classes have gotten out. PK is in the parking lot, and Carey is in the classroom on the second floor that has big windows and a clear view of the parking lot.

PK leans against a car as he continues to talk to someone, smiling and using exaggerated hand gestures. The guy he’s talking to starts laughing, and then PK puts his arms up in a clear facsimile of fifth position, and the guy laughs even harder.

And then PK drops the act.

Carey had only come into the classroom to find some extra markers, but now he can’t tear his eyes away from the display outside. PK is throwing himself in the air, spinning, and landing with a surprising amount of grace. Actually, that’s an understatement—he's performing every single move perfectly.

Then he slides across the hood of the car, leaps to his feet, and looks up at the window, straight at Carey. He grins and gives Carey a little wave. Carey waves back faintly, before PK drops to the ground to balance on his hands.

Carey steps away from the window, not wanting to get caught staring again.

*

After that, PK seems to be everywhere. More than once, Carey walks into a room to find him hard at work, cleaning the windows, changing the lightbulbs, or doing something else that needs doing. If the conversation he’d once overheard a group of girls having is anything to go by, PK has also had to fix a sink in one of the bathrooms—that is, unless the girls were talking about a different “hot new custodian.”

But by far Carey’s most memorable interaction with PK, barring anything that happened on that first day, is at the end of the second week, when he walks in on PK sweeping the floor, which apparently entails a dramatic one-man performance of “Chim Chim Cher-ee.”

Carey turns on his heel and walks right out, embarrassed to be even tangentially involved in whatever this is, but he still hears PK calling out, “Good to see you, too, Carey!” as he goes.

After that, PK always shoots a grin in Carey’s direction and gives him a little wave whenever they see each other.

Carey doesn’t even question the attention until after Patches points it out. Carey meets up with Max after school four times a week to rehearse for their showcase performance. Well, it’s technically just Carey’s showcase performance, since Max has another year before he graduates. Carey needed a partner, though, and Max had volunteered.

“You guys know each other?” Patches asks, after PK claps Carey on the shoulder on his way out the door.

“Not really,” Carey says. “I mean, I’ve only talked to him once.”

“Oh,” Max says. “Weird.”

Carey shrugs.

*

When Carey goes to meet up with Max in their usual rehearsal room, Max is late, which is weird because Max is never late. When he finally arrives, almost fifteen minutes later, he hobbles into the studio on crutches.

“Oh, shit,” Carey says.

“Yeah,” Max responds. “I jumped and fucked up the landing.”

“Shit,” Carey says again.

He’s trying to hide how much he’s panicking, but from the concerned look Max gives him, it’s not working.

Carey holds auditions for a substitute rehearsal partner as soon as possible.

The first applicant stumbles in the middle of the routine and can’t figure out how to recover gracefully. The second runs toward Carey for the jump, just like he’s supposed to, but then he abruptly halts, chickening out at the last second. The third gets all the way to the part of the routine where he’s supposed to dip Carey, and Carey finds out the hard way that he doesn’t know how to support him correctly.

It only gets worse from there, not least because PK walks in halfway through to fix a light and then has to try to hide his laughter, however unsubtly.

Carey auditions everyone on the list without choosing any of them. It’s just his luck that the only students who have enough time to become someone’s rehearsal partner at the last minute are all underclassmen and haven’t learned anything advanced enough to do Carey’s routine.

He’s still contemplating his options when PK decides to step in.

“Having some trouble?” he asks, giving Carey a consolatory pat on the shoulder.

“What do you think?” Carey snaps, before sighing dejectedly. “Sorry. Yes. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

PK laughs. “No worries, man. I think I can help you out.”

“How?” Carey asks suspiciously.

PK holds out a hand. Carey stares at it for a long moment.

“Come on,” PK says. “You know I know you saw me in the parking lot the other day. I’m an awesome dancer, right?”

Carey looks up, meeting PK’s eyes, and PK shoots him a grin.

“Okay,” Carey says. “Let’s do this.”

He takes PK’s hand. 

PK pulls him into a perfect spin and dips him easily. His grip feels steady and strong, and Carey doesn’t doubt him for a second. PK does another few steps of the routine, lifting and spinning and jumping better than any of the students Carey had auditioned. PK finishes with a mock bow.

“So how does the guy who broke into the school to trash our set also know so much about dancing?” Carey asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Are those skills mutually exclusive?” PK counters.

Carey huffs out a frustrated breath. “No, I just don’t understand the motivation there.”

“First of all,” PK says, “just because I can dance doesn’t mean I care about snooty schools.” He smiles at Carey to soften the blow before continuing, “And second of all, I’m technically just the guy who took the fall for the guy who did all that stuff to the set.”

“Is that right?”

PK shrugs. “Gally’s just a dumb kid who doesn’t know how to say no to a challenge. I couldn’t let him get in trouble.”

“Oh,” Carey says.

*

Carey immediately goes to Director Therrien’s office, quickly knocking on his door out of obligation before just letting himself in.

“Mr. Price?” Therrien greets, eyebrows raised.

Carey gets straight to the point. “I’d like PK Subban be my rehearsal partner for the showcase.”

“What happened to your other partner? Mr. Pacioretty was it?”

“Sprained ankle.”

“And there are no students who could replace him?”

“Not good ones,” Carey says.

“Hmm. I’ve been keeping a close eye on Mr. Subban since he started working with us,” Therrien says. “He’s very showy. Flashy. His style doesn’t match yours at all. Is that really someone you want for your performance?”

“I want PK,” Carey says simply.

“As long you as you know the risks,” Therrien tells him.

Carey nods. “Of course.”

He’s tempted to slam the door behind him, but resists the urge.

When he sees PK again, he tells him when and where to meet, and says, “Bring tights.”

*

PK shows up to rehearsal in slacks.

“You can go change in the bathroom,” Carey tells him, bending over to start his warm-up stretches.

“Done,” PK says.

Carey looks up. “I thought I told you to bring tights.”

“Do I look like I own tights, man?” PK asks, laughing

“Fine, whatever,” Carey says. “Let’s just get started.”

As it turns out, PK is much less coordinated when he tries to do Carey’s routine than he is when he does his own moves. He has talent and flexibility and strength and—other assets. All of that would be obvious even if Carey hadn’t seen the extent of what he can do, that day in the parking lot. PK’s problem is that he lacks sophistication when it comes to the specifics of ballet moves. He has his own type of grace, but it doesn’t seem to translate to the delicacy necessary for the routine.

“Look, it’s called a ball change,” Carey explains, demonstrating again.

PK mimics the move, concentrating much more intently on the steps than someone with his talent probably needs to. Still.

“You’re surprisingly bad at this,” Carey says.

“Hey!” PK protests. Carey stares at him until he relents with a heavy sigh. “This isn’t exactly the kind of dancing I’m used to.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that,” Carey responds dryly. “You’re still a good dancer, though.”

PK rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“Here, let’s try something else,” Carey says, putting his hand out, similar to the way PK had done the other day, when he’d convinced Carey to let him be his partner.

PK takes his hand, and Carey pulls him in.

Without the limitations of a set routine, PK has a much better idea of what to do with his feet, even if he’s using his hips and hands more provocatively than what Carey had in mind for his showcase. In the privacy of an empty studio, though, he’s not going to complain.

*

The next day that Carey and PK had planned to meet for rehearsal, PK doesn’t show. Carey waits in the studio for half an hour before his patience runs out. As he packs up to leave, he alternates between being worried that something happened to PK and being angry that PK purposefully stood him up.

It turns out Carey should have stuck with the latter.

He’s halfway down the steps of the school when he notices PK out on the sidewalk, sweeping up leaves.

“What the hell are you doing?” Carey demands, almost running down the rest of the steps. “Where were you today?”

PK looks up. “Sorry, man.” He shrugs. “I realized that I need to stick to what I’m good at.”

“What does that even mean?” Carey asks.

“Your kind of dance just isn’t my thing,” PK explains. “Come on, you know that.”

“No, I don’t know that,” Carey says. “You might have to work a little harder, but you have the talent, and I know you can find the motivation, too.”

“Sorry,” is all PK says.

Carey is definitely not looking forward to having to hold yet another round of auditions.

*

There are very few things Carey can think of that he’d want to do less than dance with another set of students who don’t have enough confidence to dance with him, so he holds off on the auditions for as long as he can. The only reason why he even considers having them at all is because the thought of explaining the situation to Therrien is somehow worse.

His reluctance pays off when, the following week, PK catches up with Carey outside the school. Carey had been vaguely aware of PK running after him, though he hadn’t bothered to turn around until he felt PK’s hand on his arm.

“Hey,” PK says.

“Hey,” Carey replies.

He stares at PK expectantly. Eventually, PK sighs.

“I screwed up,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I left you high and dry, which was super uncool. Can I be your partner again?”

Carey purses his lips.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” he hedges, and he fully believes it, no matter how much he wants PK to be his partner.

“Let me make it up to you,” PK says. “I’ll do anything you want to prove that you can trust me.”

Carey considers him for a moment.

“Meet me outside room 206 at five o’clock tomorrow,” he says.

“Alright, no problem,” PK agrees immediately. “What will I be doing?”

“You’ll see,” Carey replies, smirking.

*

“I teach a beginner’s ballet class,” Carey tells PK. “You could stand to learn a few things about beginner’s ballet.”

PK nods like that makes sense, so Carey opens the classroom door. He revels in the face PK makes when he realizes he’ll be practicing with kids who barely come up to his waist.

But karma bites Carey in the ass.

He’d been laughing at PK just a few minutes ago, but now he can’t tear his eyes away as PK crouches down and helps one of the younger boys, who had been having some trouble with the turns. Carey only snaps out of it when a girl tugs on his shirt to get his attention, making him realize that he has to go back to actually teaching the class.

Afterwards, PK offers to walk Carey home. Carey raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say no.

“So, you’re a teacher?” PK asks as they walk.

“Only part-time,” Carey replies.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I do. I only started doing it to earn some extra money—the only reason I can even afford to go to school here is because I have a scholarship—but now I really love it. I’d probably keep doing it even if I didn’t have to.”

“That’s awesome, man,” PK says sincerely.

*

On the first day of rehearsal after Carey lets PK come back, PK actually beats Carey to the studio, though instead of waiting in the classroom, he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the wall and focusing intently on the notebook in his lap.

“You’re early today,” Carey says.

“I wanted to make sure I was on time,” PK responds, closing his notebook and standing up.

“What’s that?” Carey asks, nodding at the book.

“Uh.” PK hesitates. “My drawings.”

“Oh, cool. Can I see?” Carey says, not thinking. He quickly adds, “But you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“Nah, you can look,” PK says, handing it over. “Just promise you won’t judge too harshly. I know you probably see way better stuff than this around here, since it’s an actual art school and everything.”

“Don’t say that,” Carey says, and starts flipping through PK’s sketches. He doesn’t actually know anything about art, but PK’s drawings are beautiful. The lines are bold and confident, and the colors practically pop. “Seriously, these are really good. Why haven’t you pursued this more seriously?”

PK’s answering smile is small and soft, very unlike his usual cocky grin.

“I never had the opportunity to,” PK answers, shrugging. He clears his throat and gestures to the classroom. “Anyway. Shall we?”

Carey nods, resolving to let PK add some freestyle to the dance routine.

*

When Carey asks PK if he wants to come over to his house, he’s almost expecting PK to say no, since they don’t actually have any reason to hang out with each other outside of rehearsals. PK looks genuinely excited about it, though, and Carey feels a sense of relief wash over him.

They drop their stuff off at the kitchen table, and then Carey leads PK back outside.

“Where are we going?”

“I want you to see the waterfront,” Carey answers. “I love it there, and I think you’ll like it, too. Maybe it’ll inspire you,” he adds cheekily.

PK nods but doesn’t say anything, and they make the rest of the trip in companionable silence.

When they reach the docks, Carey spends a minute taking in the sight, looking out at the expanse of the river spread out in front of him, before he turns to PK.

“I wish I thought to bring my sketchbook,” PK says, voice awed.

“You can bring it next time,” Carey tells him. “I like to come here whenever I can. I used to a lot more often, when I wasn’t so busy. When I was a kid, I would spend my time here imagining elaborate dance routines for my showcase.”

“And how does your actual showcase routine measure up?” PK asks.

“I don’t know if it’s as good,” Carey admits. “I’d always imagined it with a big group of dancers.”

“You get to decide the routine, right?” PK says. “Why don’t you do it the way you want to?”

“I couldn’t find that many students who are advanced enough and who would have enough time for it.”

“Have you looked for any?”

“Well, no,” Carey answers.

“Then you can’t know for sure,” PK says. “What would the routine look like with more dancers anyway?”

“I’d want to do a canon.” At PK’s questioning look, Carey elaborates, “A round, like ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat,’ where one person starts, then someone else goes a few seconds after, and someone else a few seconds after that, and so on.”

“Oh, okay, I think I get it.” PK steps away from the edge of the dock and holds out a hand to Carey. “Show me what it would look like.”

Carey and PK go through the first few steps of the routine, up until they get to the part where they’re about to start doing chaines turns.

Then Carey stops, and says, “Keep going. I’m going to pretend to be someone else and start over.”

“Alright.”

While PK continues the routine, Carey starts from the beginning.

When he gets to the chaines turns again, he says, “And this is when the next set of dancers would start.”

He does one turn and sees that PK has stopped and is standing still behind him, watching closely.

“That would look so awesome,” PK says. “You’re really good at this.”

“Thanks,” Carey mutters, before quickly changing the subject. “Here, let’s practice a little more.”

It’s not that Carey hasn’t noticed how good-looking PK is. He has, obviously. But it’s much easier to ignore something like that when he’s focused solely on the dance steps and not so much on the person next to him. Here, though, outside the confines of the school studio, it’s a different story, and as they turn and lift, Carey can’t stop thinking about PK’s body so close to his.

He pulls away from PK before those thoughts can get too out of hand.

“I think that’s enough practice for now,” Carey says, subtly wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. “Let’s head back to my house.”

“Sure,” PK responds.

*

On Monday, Carey finds PK waiting for him outside their rehearsal room; it’s only the second time PK has arrived before Carey.

“I have a surprise for you,” PK says.

He’s practically giddy with excitement. Carey is instantly suspicious.

“Um, okay.”

Carey opens the door, and the room is filled with students, all stretching and getting ready to dance.

“They’re here to do your canon for you,” PK says, grinning widely.

“I don’t know what to say.” Carey looks around at everybody talking and laughing, all of them excited to get started. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” PK says easily.

*

PK invites Carey for a night out the next weekend. The dance club isn’t really Carey’s scene, but PK likes it, and Carey is willing to try something new for PK.

The club is a blur of noise and bodies, and Carey is somewhat overwhelmed by it all until PK grabs his hand and leads him to the edge of the dance floor. Once there, all he can focus on is PK, who’s grinding onto him, hands roaming all over Carey’s body.

This isn’t the kind of dancing Carey is used to, but he has skill and a good sense of rhythm, so it doesn’t take long for him to get into it, regardless of how awkward he feels swinging his hips at PK.

PK throws his head back and laughs, and then his and Carey’s eyes meet. They’re grinding their bodies against each other, so close that Carey can feel PK’s sweat through his clothes and smell his breath. It smells minty fresh, and then Carey gets distracted thinking about PK’s mouth, about his bright smiles and expressive eyes.

Then PK steps away.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asks.

“Now?” Carey shrugs. “Sure, I guess.”

It’s a pretty nice evening, though slightly chilly with the breeze. Carey puts his hands in his pockets to keep them warm, arms brushing against PK’s even as he bundles up. 

They walk to a park a few blocks away, and PK says, “How often do you think about all the things you want that you can’t have?”

“What?” Carey turns to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I just,” PK starts, then he stops as he collects his thoughts. “There are just a lot of things I want right now, but I’m not sure how possible any of them are.”

“Like what?” Carey says.

“Like getting a scholarship and transferring to your fancy art school, for one,” PK replies.

“That’s not impossible,” Carey tells him. “I mean, you’re talented enough for it.” He pauses for a moment. “What’s the next thing?”

PK stops walking, and Carey stops next to him. PK turns to face Carey, and the two of them stand like that for a few moments, Carey holding his breath all the while. Finally, PK brings his hands to Carey’s pulling them out of his pockets and holding onto them.

Carey has just enough time to wonder if PK is actually going to do what he thinks PK is going to do, before PK leans up and kisses him, putting all his doubts to rest. PK’s mouth is warm and soft, and Carey is so glad he’s his partner in all of this. 

*

PK had already been working hard during dance practices, but with Carey giving him an extra motivation in the form of make-out sessions, he’s willing to stay and work even longer. As Carey changes up the routine to incorporate the other dancers, he ends up letting PK add in some of his own styles and moves as well. The routine is so different now than it was just a couple months ago, and so much more exciting.

After another solid practice session, PK holds out a hand for a high five. Carey gives it to him, but PK just shakes his head.

“That was weak,” he says. “Try again.”

“That’s so dumb,” Carey responds, but he tries again anyway.

Again, PK shakes his head. “One more.”

Carey slaps PK’s hand and says, “How was that?”

“Perfect,” PK answers, grinning.

*

Carey invites PK over to his house again, specifically on a day when he knows his parents will be out, just like last time he’d invited PK over. They come home early.

Predictably, they love PK. He’s incredibly charming, asking questions about their jobs, about what Carey was like as a kid, about whatever else he can think of to ask. When he leaves, though, calling “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Price,” over his shoulder, Carey’s parents turns to him for an interrogation.

“He seems like a nice young man,” his mom says.

“He is,” Carey says, hands clasped in his lap like a nervous kid.

“And he’s the one you changed your performance for?” she questions.

“That’s right,” Carey confirms.

“Hmmm.” She purses her lips. “I’m just not sure that was wise.”

“Your mother and I are just worried that your new routine is too much of a risk,” his dad says. “We know you’re an incredible dancer, but we want to make sure everyone who sees your showcase knows it, too.”

Carey shakes his head. “He made my routine better. It was boring before, and now it’s actually fun.”

He gets up and leaves the table without waiting for a response.

*

When Carey goes into the rehearsal room the next day, he sees Max waiting for him, no crutches in sight.

“Hey, Pricey!” Max greets enthusiastically.

“Hey,” Carey responds, specifically trying not to make it sound like a question.

“My ankle is all healed up,” Max answers anyway.

Carey is still trying to decide how he should respond to that when he hears the door open and shut behind him. Then PK appears by his side.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking back and forth between Carey and Max.

“I’m back,” Patches answers. “No need to fill in for me anymore.”

“Oh. Okay, then,” PK says, and turns on his heel and leaves the room without another word.

“PK, wait!” Carey calls, running out after him.

He catches up with PK in the hallway and grabs him by the shoulder.

“What do you want?” PK spits out, turning around to face Carey. “You clearly don’t need me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Carey responds.

“Looks that way to me,” PK says.

He shrugs Carey’s hand off his shoulder and leaves. Carey doesn’t chase after him again. 

*

When Carey gets home, his parents are waiting for him in his room, possibly planning to ambush him again.

“We’ve been doing some thinking,” his dad begins, “about the situation with your performance.”

His mom nods. “We realized that you do seem much happier lately. If you’re confident in your dance routine, then we’ll support you no matter what.”

“We’re so glad that you have PK to be there for you,” his dad adds.

Carey doesn’t correct them. All he manages is a faint “Thanks.”

*

It only takes two practices for Max to quit. He’s been trying to do PK’s moves, but with little success. After attempting a particularly difficult spin, he trips on the landing and has to keep his weight off his ankle for a few agonizing minutes.

“You and I both know the new routine is beyond my skillset,” Max explains. “I’m sorry.”

“Shit,” Carey says, with feeling, after Max has left.

He tries calling PK to convince him to come back, but PK doesn’t respond to any of Carey’s voicemails, and Carey doesn’t see him around the school anymore.

At the next practice, Carey looks around at all the wide-eyed underclassmen looking to him for direction, and then he takes a deep breath and starts planning out all the adjustments he’ll have to make so the routine works without him having a partner.

*

The day of the showcase, Carey feels more resigned than excited. It’s a good routine, but it’s not what he’d envisioned. He’d always imagined himself with a partner.

When PK appears backstage, Carey almost doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. Carey stares at him, and though he looks abashed under Carey’s scrutiny, that doesn’t stop him from walking right up to Carey.

“What are you doing here?” Carey asks.

“I heard you needed a new dance partner,” PK says.

“Why should I trust you?” Carey says, crossing his arms.

“I want to dance with you. I know I kind of acted like an asshole, but I hated the thought that you didn’t want to dance with me,” PK responds. “I hated feeling like I was just a poor substitute.”

“I want it to be you,” Carey says. “You should’ve known that.”

“I know now. I’m sorry I got jealous.” PK pauses before adding, “Please let me dance with you tonight.”

The other dancers are clearly trying to pretend like they aren’t eavesdropping, though Carey supposes that he and PK aren’t exactly in private right now.

“Of course,” Carey says. “I’d love for you to be my partner again.” He turns to the group and tells them, “We’re going back to the original routine.”

The cheers in response to that announcement are unexpected, though not at all unwelcome.

*

In the moments before the lights go up on the stage, PK leans over to Carey and whispers, “Break a leg.”

“You too,” Carey whispers in return.

*

It’s hard to know how the performance looks from the outside, but doing it, Carey feels pretty good. He’s too focused on what he needs to be doing to pay any attention to whether the others are doing okay next to him, but he trusts them.

He and PK land every jump and spin right on time, and their lifts and dips appear effortlessly graceful.

The applause afterwards is deafening.

When the lights go down again, PK holds his hand out for a high five, and Carey has to give him three before he puts his hand down. Neither of them can stop smiling.

As soon as they’re offstage, PK yells, “Carey ‘Cash’ Price was on the money tonight!” right in Carey’s ear.

They find Therrien waiting for them near the dressing room.

“Congratulations, Mr. Subban,” he says, as though the words are being dragged out of him. “If you’d like to transfer here for your final semester, you just need to have your current high school send me a transcript.”

As soon as Therrien is out of sight, Carey grabs PK’s cheeks and leans in to give him a congratulatory kiss.

“I can’t believe it,” PK says, shaking his head incredulously after they’ve pulled apart. “This is awesome.”

“Well, I can believe it,” Carey responds. “You deserve this.”

PK’s answering grin is wide and infectious.


End file.
